


With a Chance of Fall

by ProwlingThunder



Series: Dépaysement [2]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Canterbury Commons, Caravan Traders, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt!Fic!</p><p><b>A priest walks into</b> a town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Chance of Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Another weekly prompt fill! You can find the original prompt [here](https://authoramandamccormick.wordpress.com/2016/07/03/weekly-writing-prompt-73-79-2016/) and this fic is also cross-posted on my blog [here](https://prowlingthunder.wordpress.com/2016/07/10/weekly-writing-prompt-response-73-79/). The idea was to use at least five words from the list. They are below, bolded, as well as above in the title (With a Chance of **Fall** ) and in the summary,  **a priest walks into** a town.

 

According to the Caravans, Canterbury Commons was the end of the line heading North-East, as far as the Capital Wasteland went. There wasn't much of it; it was the ruins of some pre-war town, like so much else of the Wasteland, and parts of it stood strong and parts of it crumbled. Jay had never been here, although he had heard about it. Supposedly there had been a pair of pre-war superheroes to go with the buildings at one point.

Butch had told him about it. Maybe they were still here, having a petty squabble somewhere over robots and ants, and maybe his sister had dealt with them already, but Jay hadn't come here for them. Butch had, maybe. Jay was not privy to the  **inner workings** of his lover's mind, and it wasn't like they had discussed their reasons. Wanting to go was enough reason to go.

Jay had come because, as far as the Caravans in the Wasteland were concerned, Canterbury Commons was the edge of the world.

He had always wanted to see the edge of the world. To sit in front of it and drink  **coffee.** Or at least he had once he had dealt with the idea of living outside the Vault.

The end of the road was a cul-de-sac, and a number of traders had set up shop there. Not all of them were people he knew, people he had run into while traveling the Wasteland. One man had built up a fire and was cooking  **noodles** in a large, flat pan, animatedly trading well-meaning insults with his neighbor. He could be a local, maybe. Maybe it was  **traditional,** cooking food for the Caravans. It was a good day for it; bright  **sunshine,** a cool breeze in from the East, bringing the scent of promised-rain. Three Dog had, blessedly, not announced 'a change of dismemberment' as part of the day's weather broadcast, but apparently the Silver Linings Drive-In claimed they were getting rain heralding in off Raven's Rock.

He'd believe it when he saw it. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, not anywhere.

Butch nudged his side. "You hungry?" He was watching the guy with the  **noodles,** and Jay couldn't hide the smile that bloomed. Pasta was a luxury sometimes, in Rivet City. Mirelurk and all it's possible variations were the  **traditional** route. They were plentiful, if a bit hard to kill, but it was possible to sit up on deck and snipe them, or on some of the broken ledges that time had furrowed away and care had sanded down.

There were fish, too. Or, at least, he thought he had seen fish once. Butch was the one that lived there. Jay's white collar meant he was constantly traveling; he didn't have a flock to tend, but a chaplain went where he was needed.

"Maybe in a little while. I came to meet a resident." Butch's expression morphed from hopeful to curious and then to carefully understanding. His heart lurched in affection. The leader of the Tunnel Snakes wasn't dumb, was a lot quicker on the uptake than people had given him credit for. There hadn't been many of them who had been able to see it. Still weren't; Butch played the suave and charismatic barber extremely well. Like a bartender, people saw him and relaxed.

And talked. Didn't hurt that he could do hair too, so even the ladies in Rivet City ended up under his knowing hands.

Jay reached out to squeeze his fingers in apology. Butch's hands belonged to him, but that didn't mean he liked to leave them idle. "Go ahead. But save me one of those  **rough cut terracotta tiles** they're trying to pass off as plates, okay?"

" **I got this,** Jaybird." The smile was all serpentine danger and he-- okay, no, he had work to do. _He had work to do._ **He clinched his fist** mostly for sanity, but he still bopped him in the shoulder anyway, because it was expected and because it made Butch's blue eyes flint dark in promise of retribution.

He turned away and marched off before he could be tempted to drag him off instead. There was a small  **coaster** in his pocket, etched with  **flower patterns,** and somewhere in this settlement there was a building with  **striped curtains** requesting his wisdom.

He wasn't about to let them  **fall** when he could do something to help.

 


End file.
